


Endearments

by sei_shonanon



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Community: shkinkmeme, Fluff, M/M, Triple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-04
Updated: 2012-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 03:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/351204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sei_shonanon/pseuds/sei_shonanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>triple drabble for the prompt: Watson accidentally calls Holmes 'darling', casually and completely by accident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endearments

**Author's Note:**

> written for a prompt at the Sherlock Holmes Kink Meme here:  
> http://shkinkmeme.livejournal.com/9194.html?thread=22164202#t22164202

It seemed that tonight’s adventure had come to a successful conclusion, and the police were leading the gang of criminals away in handcuffs. I looked around for Holmes, whom I had not seen since the fighting began.

As if summoned by my thoughts, he emerged from a back room and met my eyes with a smile of conspiratorial triumph. “Well, Watson, everything seems—”

But my attention had been arrested by the bright red of his shirt-cuff and the fresh blood running down his hand. I was at his side in an instant, kneeling to examine the injury and whipping out my pocket-handkerchief to wipe away the blood. “Oh!” I exclaimed involuntarily when I saw the deep gash running across his palm. “Oh, my darling, your poor hand!”

I bandaged the wound as best I could with my handkerchief before I stood back up and came face-to-face with my friend. He was looking at me with raised eyebrows, and only then did I realize what I had called him. I blushed till I could feel the tips of my ears burning. It had only been a few days since the rather tentative confession of the feelings between us, and the subject of endearments had never been addressed. I was sure that Holmes would take this as yet another proof of my incorrigible romanticism, and I braced myself for a sardonic remark.

Instead, he gave me a small, peculiarly bright smile and said, “Thank you, my dear.” He vanished out the door and I was left staring after him.

I have been “my dear Watson” to him for many years, and “my dear fellow,” but never before simply “my dear.” After a moment of shock, I could feel a smile spread across my face, and I followed Holmes into the street.


End file.
